


a way to carry on

by sparrowinsky



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowinsky/pseuds/sparrowinsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Butch acts as if they're more than they are, but Amata pretends they're nothing at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a way to carry on

Amata is proud, cool, every emotion smothered and every thought wrapped tight in a control threaded through with fear. She no longer has a friend to confide in, no one to take the burden from her shoulders. She fixes other people's problems, and other people, because now they're her problems and her people, and she fills herself up with them until she can't breathe.

So when Butch pulls her into a defunct hallway and slides his fingers into her hair, pulling the ponytail tight until she makes a small noise of pain, she does not object.

When he shoves her against the wall, when he whispers dark things into her ear, calls her names that send a thrilling line of heat down her body, she does not object.

It's quick and painful, the way only Butch would take her, and it leaves her shaken and moaning when he finishes, turning her in his arms. She's something like content, something like relaxed, until she sees the look in his eyes. Until he tries to press a kiss to her mouth. She turns her face away, stiffening. His eyes harden, and suddenly the arm braced beside her head is unnerving rather then comforting.

"Bitch," he spits at her. The word hurts, somehow, when scant moments before it made her whimper with pleasure. He's gone before she can reply, as if she'd intended to. She watches his back as he stalks from the darkened hallway, calm.

Every hair pulled back into place, every zipper redone and wrinkle smoothed from her vault suit adds another ounce of responsibility to her thin frame.

When she follows Butch's path out of the hallway she is nothing but cool, collected. She stares for a moment at the direction he'd gone, chewing her bottom lip... a childish habit she really needs to break...

She doesn't sigh, or lower her eyes, or wish for anything at all, except perhaps (in a small, dusty corner of her mind) for flashing green eyes and a ready laugh.

She turns down the hall, away from Butch and memories, and walks to her office.


End file.
